


don't remember to forget me

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [21]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: If someone was to ask him what AK was like, well he’d say abrasive.





	don't remember to forget me

If someone was to ask him what AK was like, well he’d say abrasive.

In middle school, seventh grade, the day before a school-wide dance (classes were cut off an hour early for it) a girl asked him out. AK turned to her, the girl twisting her hair around her finger and shuffling on her feet nervously and said, no emotion laced in his voice, “Absolutely not.”

She ran off crying.

Omar gave him a good whack against the back of his head and cursed him out, saying, “C’mon, man, you could’ve gotten a hot date! What I wouldn’t give for a girl to ask me out. We could go back to my place afterward and play video games.”

“But I don’t want to go to the dance with her. Or anyone,” AK said gruffly. Omar moaned and dragged his palms down his face.

“You’re such an idiot, you know?”   


“I’m not getting with anyone until high school. Everyone around me is too immature. I would prefer someone who could have a proper conversation with me, rather than someone who would reference some joke every other sentence. Like you,” AK responded.

Omar shoved him. “You’re a dick.”

//

The two of them graduated from middle school.

Omar got an entire celebration with his family, going to an old-school restaurant in town and gorging themselves on pasta and desserts. When he got back home, he jumped onto a video call with AK.

“My night was wild!” He laughed wildly and gestured to his wrist. His little sister had written “oldy moldy” on it and he thought it was the funniest thing on Earth.

“Mine wasn’t,” AK said and proceeded to describe how his night had been.

When he got home (he walked), his mother flung herself onto him and started crying in happiness, repeating “I’m so proud of you, honey!” over and over and kissing his cheeks. Omar almost had to turn off video chat because if AK saw him laughing, he would be done for. It got even funnier when AK described how his mother hugged him tight enough to make his face go blue completely deadpan. AK was gesturing to something and Omar had tears in the corner of his eyes.

“But my father, as always, said nothing and was completely stone-faced. At least he didn’t call me a ‘fucking failure,’ as he used to do.” Omar sobered up quickly.

He didn’t like hearing about AK’s home life for this very reason. His shitty father made him feel guilty. Like he shouldn’t be talking to someone who didn’t share his home experience. 

And AK’s expression when he talked about how much his father gave up to spend time with him hurt real bad.

“I’m sorry, dude. At least you’ll get to meet some hot chicks in high school next year," Omar (tried to) sympathize. That got him a low chuckle. Finally.

“Well, maybe. If I can handle them. If they can handle me.”

//

High school graduation was no different. The car keys he finally got bounced off his chest and rattled loudly and he and his girlfriend and his family walked away from the same restaurant from middle school.

“You’re a man now!” his dad announced loudly, pounding his chest and hooting loudly.

“No need to make a fuss now, honey,” his mom whispered. She didn’t try to hush his dad down, so she didn’t fully care. But she still looked nervously to where a few older people were giving them weird looks. Ever the wonderer, his mother.

They dropped his girlfriend out at her house and before she went inside, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Omar’s little sister wolf-whistled loudly and cackled as he whipped around to glare at her and stick his tongue out.

“Just wait until you get a boyfriend!” he yelled.

“I’m never! Never-ever!” she called back.

He practically threw himself into his room when they got back, eager to call AK and show him the bright and shiny new keys still dangling around his neck. But, when he pulled up the service, AK wasn’t online. And he hadn’t responded to his messages from  _ three hours earlier. _ It was weird. He was one to immediately respond to messages, no matter how late it was.

Omar shrugged to himself and pulled up a different chat. He hollered with other people late into the night, AK, his friend, the last thing on his mind as he fell asleep to a single notification pinging from his computer desk.

//

A week later, with next-to-no contact with his friend, Omar was nearly run over by his friend sprinting to his house.

“Woah, woah, dude! Slow down there,” Omar said, halting AK with his hands. It seemed like he had gained an inch on him, and now could look down at his, usually pale, now bright-red face. “Holy shit, what’s wrong? Your face is as bright as a tomato.”

“My father’s making me enlist in the military.” He spat “father” like it was a slur.

Omar didn’t know what to say, so he let AK storm away back home.

//

A few months later AK was packed up and gone and Omar watched from his parked car as his mother hugged and kissed him, sobbing violently.

His father stood in the back, stone-faced. He didn’t say anything as AK got in his car and drove away. 

Omar didn’t try calling him. He wouldn’t pick up if he tried.

//

The day after he turned twenty-one, AK showed up at his doorstep.

“Hey,” AK said.

“Hey,” Omar said.

“I was allowed to leave,” AK explained, in the doorway of the house he’d bought with his high school sweetheart of a girlfriend. “Came back to the folk’s house. Mother had apparently not been doing too well so I’m helping to take care of her. My father and I… well, he and I are actually trying to get better. He hasn’t been yelling at me and I haven’t been yelling at him. I think he regrets it, the things he said to me in the past.”

“Do you regret anything  _ you  _ said in the past?”

“Oh, none of it.” Omar watched as he walked away. “But at least one of us does.”

//

Three years later. The apocalypse was upon them, zombies roaming the streets, people getting murdered as they ran from AK’s apartment.

“Holy shit,” Omar said, bracing himself on a building and panting. He had to choke back a sob, still seeing the image of his father with his throat ripped out in the back of his mind.

“My dad didn’t make it.”

“Neither did mine.”

AK didn’t look at him. “Okay,” he said and walked away as Omar fell to his knees, sobbing.

//

If someone was to ask him what AK had become, well he’d say ruthless.

And as Omar laid on the ground, blood draining from his body, his mind going blank with an axe sticking out the back of his neck, at least he saw his old friend again before he died. At least it was a quick death.


End file.
